The End of Fear
by so original
Summary: She had this disease. She was going to die, just like her mother had. She didn’t need a test to confirm it. Delving into the mind of 13.


The End of Fear

She'd lived her whole life in fear. When she was a child, and as she'd watched her mother die, she'd been convinced that she was watching her future. Girls grew up to be like their mothers, after all. It was only right that she'd go the same way, and she couldn't fathom the possibility that she'd live to reach an age her mother never had.

It was only when she was a bit older that she'd discovered the 50 percent risk. It was a relief at the time. She was just as likely not to die the same way her as her mother as she was to suffer the full effects of the disease.

For awhile, she convinced herself that she'd be alright. She found a certain level of spirituality, and decided that her mother must be watching over her, protecting her. She had her own guardian angel. She wouldn't let her get sick.

She studied medicine as a young adult, finding that spending so much time in and around hospitals as a child had given her a need to help others, as well as a desire to solve the mysteries of life. Maybe she could help people like her mother. Maybe other girls wouldn't have to grow up without their mothers.

It was in the medical texts she loved so much that she discovered the truth of what her mother had suffered. Suddenly, a 50 percent chance wasn't all that huge. It wasn't that she had just as likely a chance of living as she did of dying, it was that she had just as likely to die as she was to live.

Memories came flooding back, things she'd thought she'd forgotten returned. She remembered the constant pain her mother had been in, both physical and emotional. She remembered the fear she herself had felt, not just of losing her mother, but of her mother herself. Nightmares where she was the monster began to haunt her each night. Gradually, the monster took on her own face, and all of her features.

She began to hate her mother for having a child. She should never have risked passing the disease along. She should never have subjected someone else to this terror. She decided then that she'd never have children.

She started to hate her father for never having her tested for the disease. She knew it was selfish of her to think that way. The man had watched his wife die a horrible death, who could blame him for hoping his daughter would stay healthy? But he'd left the decision up to her, and she hated that burden.

She kept putting off taking the test. She had more important things to think about. She wanted to get through med school. She didn't need the knowledge that it would all be for nothing distracting her.

She felt fine, anyway. She wasn't sick. She saw no reason to be labelled ill while she was still perfectly healthy.

However, she felt herself becoming increasingly paranoid. Every time she dropped something she'd spend the rest of the day going over the incident in her mind, trying to find an explanation for the clumsiness.

One time her hands began to shake as she sat staring at a picture of her mother, taken so many years ago. She had to laugh at the irony. Although she tried to convince herself her hands were only shaking because she was gripping the picture frame so tightly, she felt it was a sign.

She had this disease. She was going to die, just like her mother had. She didn't need a test to confirm it. Her time now was limited. She intended to make the most of it.

She started taking more risks, living life to its fullest. She found she'd never had a better time in her life. This was truly the way to live.

Time passed, and she didn't show any more signs that a deadly disease was within her. Hope crept in again, along with doubt. Signs meant nothing. Only science could tell her what her fate was. She couldn't let anything else convince her of her life's outcome.

She still didn't take the test. She didn't stop taking risks. The photo which had acted as a catalyst in her life was now tucked safely into her wallet, a talisman of sorts. To remind her of everything that could be lost, and everything that could be gained.

Years passed before anything happened again. A dropped folder, followed by too much defensiveness. The piqued interest of a curious employer. This time, a one-off incident was followed by several more moments. It was enough to convince her it was real this time. It was enough to make her wish she'd taken the damn test, just so she could have been prepared. She'd been so naive to think she'd be okay no matter what the outcome was.

Then, the truth revealed. It really was nothing. How much longer would she have to sit on this rollercoaster, going from hope to fear to acceptance, one wave after another? How much longer would it go on?

The answer was right in front of her. The test performed without her knowledge or consent, almost the way she'd wished her father had done years ago. It would have been so easy to end it in that moment.

The decision was easy. She discovered she really didn't want to know. She wanted to hold onto her hope as long as she could. It was too much to lose if the results proved positive, and the results of a negative outcome couldn't outweigh it.

She walked away, feeling calmer than she had in years.

End

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